


Sway (¿Quién será?)

by HouseofAustrich



Series: Friday Night Dragon Age Writing Circle [7]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Qunari Thirst continues in minor characters, Sappy, Shale is blunt, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 17:12:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14000775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseofAustrich/pseuds/HouseofAustrich
Summary: The Motley Blight Crew stops for the night at an Inn, slow dancing ensues.A quick fluff piece written for the DA Drunk Writing Circle on Tumblr.





	Sway (¿Quién será?)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: May I have this dance?

If there was one thing about a Blight, it made traveling a pain in the ass. The group had been travelling for most of the day along the North Road on their way to Orzammar, until finally stopping for the night in an Inn along the Imperial Highway. 

Inside, the Inn was small and warm; its patrons lively considering the chaos that was currently plaguing Ferelden.

“‘Course… the Darkspawn haven’t made it this far North yet….” Arilla murmured to herself as she dug through her pack for her coin purse. 

“Are you looking to book a room or two for the night, travellers?” The Innkeeper, a plump, greying human woman, remarked from where she sat behind her bar.

“Yes, we’d like to book…. Three rooms?” Arilla responded, looking towards her group. They all shared tents, so sharing rooms should be similar.

“I have more than enough rooms. You might think I’m getting a lot of business, what, with how crowded this place is right now, but most of these sponges are from the village down the way. They’ll clear out.”

“Surely we have enough coin to help this poor woman…?” Leliana said softly from behind Arilla, earning a scoff from Morrigan.

“Very well… We’d each like individual rooms…” Arilla said tentatively with a sigh. Alistair opened his mouth to say something, stalled and then changed his mind. Sten said nothing, his expression the same, somewhat disapproving look he usually had.

“ ‘Tis your money, Warden,” Morrigan remarked dryly.

* * *

The Innkeeper was true to her word. Not long afterward, the previous patrons left, drunk and stumbling, to return to their homes. Now, it was only the group of them left in the main room of the Inn. Wynne and Alistair sat at the bar; Wynne making her way through a bottle of wine, Alistair his way through a large bowl of stew. Leliana sat at a table in the corner of the room with Bodahn, switching between tuning and playing her lute. Sten sat in a chair by the door, seemingly keeping watch to both the in- and out-side of the Inn. Sandal sat with Shartan next to the fireplace, the mabari curled up in his lap. Morrigan was nowhere to be found; although a strangely familiar black cat watched from her perch on the fireplace mantle. Shale watched its companions from the open window, much offended by its inability to fit inside the door.

“Have you ever tried Antivan Brandy, my dear Warden?”

Zevran and Arilla sat at a table along the back wall. Zevran motioned to the bottle resting near him on the table, the same one he had been quite overjoyed to find out the Innkeeper had.

“Can’t say I have, to tell you the truth,” Arilla admitted with a shake of her head.

Zevran grinned, pushing the bottle towards her in a swift, smooth motion with his right hand.

“Try it.”

Arilla smiled, taking the bottle with a laugh. She put the bottle to her lips, and with poor judgement, took a quick, large swig from it. She coughed, not expecting the strong spice to the brandy. Zevran placed his hand over his mouth, barely managing to contain his laughter, or his smirk. Arilla squinted at him for a moment, but couldn’t keep up the disapproving facade. She laughed.

“It’s good, a lot better than the piss I’d usually drink in the alienage,” She chuckled, taking a smaller sip from the bottle.

“I am glad to see I was right in thinking you’d agree,” Zevran replied with a grin.

They continued to pass the bottle back and forth between each other until it was empty. Then, Zevran turned his attention to Leliana.

“My dear Leliana, would I be right in assuming you know some Antivan music too?” He asked, leaning on the back of his chair.

Leliana thought for a moment, then responded: “I know a few, Zevran, if you’d wish me to play one?”

Zevran grinned, turning his attention back to Arilla. His eyes shined with glee.

“Dance with me, Arilla.”

“I- what?”

“I think its face has gone red,” Shale remarked from the window. There was a snort, followed by a cough as Alistair choked on his stew. A giggle from Leliana. What might have been a chuckle from Sten, though likely a cough. Arilla felt her face grow even hotter.

“Um… very well, Zevran,” She replied tentatively.

Zevran grinned even wider, giving her his hand as they stood. Leliana took a minute to check the tuning of her strings before beginning to play a steady tune Arilla didn’t recognize. It appeared however, Zevran did.

“Ah yes, that’s a popular song to play in the streets of Antivan City in the summer months…” He sighed, a fond look on his face as he thought of home.

They danced to the tune, Arilla out of step with Zevran. It was comfortable enough, Arilla soon finding her head on Zevran’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” She whispered.

Zevran only made a small hum in response.

“If the two of you are going to dance,” The Innkeeper perked up from behind the bar, then made her way over to where Sten sat, “then, I’d like to dance with you, Mr. Qunari-Man.”

“And now its face has gone red as well.”


End file.
